


plastic taste.

by lcvenders



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, High School AU, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospital Reference, References to Depression, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, teen!phan, teenager!phan, we're pretending it's 2019 for au sake okay, yes the title is joji ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcvenders/pseuds/lcvenders
Summary: dan howell is stuck. stuck in a cloud of wishing he were gone and searching for a reason to live.phil lester is a boy known for pining; every week he has a new boy crush, and this week it happens to be dan howell.teetering on the edge of seventeen years old, dan thinks that this is his end.





	plastic taste.

**Author's Note:**

> big suicide tw!!! i apologize for not putting this before, stay safe loves x

_There’s nothing left for me._

Those were the only words Dan Howell could conjure in his twisted, fucked-up brain. A five word sentence that carried the weight of the world. A world he wished didn’t exist. . . damn it, the pills were right in front of him. Fluorescent blue capsules that would be so easy to down with a few shots of vodka, pills that could make him fall into dreams as pretty and simple as the white marble cabinet they were splayed upon. If they were right there, then why was it so hard?

Dan Howell was constructed of suicide attempts and internalized homophobia and failed math quizzes, calls to his mom about his unexcused absences from class and his psychiatrist urging him to get hospitalized. . . there was nothing pretty and simple about his life, and being hospitalized was simply not an option. The hospital was full of nurses who believed he would get better, full of teenagers who looked as hollow as he felt on the inside, food that tasted like it was devoid of all flavor. He couldn’t go back there. Each time he came back, he spiraled once again.

Sixteen thousand and three hundred sixty-four days. 11:57pm. Deep breaths. Fluorescent pills. Three minutes until his seventeenth birthday. He’d vowed to himself that he’d never be seventeen. Seventeen was a year full of preparing for an adulthood he’d never have. . . everyone was preparing for university while he was preparing for death. He knew suicide wasn’t a scheduled thing. He couldn’t guarantee his death. All that was needed was for him to down the pills, chase it with vodka to turn his blood into poison. Dan wasn’t sure if the thought of his body attacking itself appealed to him; he knew he’d always been his own greatest enemy.

He willed his hands to stop shaking, dug his nails into the cushioned fabric of his sweatpants. He was surely going insane; maybe he was already dead. The seconds were ticking by too fast, the clock in the hallway clicking a thousand times too loud to its steady rhythm. Was he just imagining it, or did his heartbeat with every tick? Sixty beats a minute. That was average for a human, right?

11:59pm. It was now or never. He scooped the pills into his hands, his mom’s half-full bottle of vodka on standby. He stared at them for another solid twenty seconds. He knew that they would kill him this time; he’d made sure to get the right amount after last time. . . where he passed out for a full day and threw up way too many times to count. What was the point of attempting death if he wasn’t actually going to die? His brain felt heavy and his heart was twisting, as the buzzing of his phone snapped him out of his stupid, stupid trance.

**Phil Lester:** Happy birthday! :-)

Accompanied by a few birthday-related emoticons, the message was a thousand times too cheery. The screen of Dan’s phone illuminated the dimly lit bathroom, casting a ray of blue light that sent a twisting pain through his stomach. He looked at the time, squinting at the screen through blurry, exhausted eyes.

12:00am. It was now or never. Now or never. Fuck Phil Lester for snapping him out of it. It was his motherfucking birthday, and Dan was going to do what he'd always wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is my first time publishing here :') !! sorry this isn't really the best, this story has really been based on personal experience and getting thoughts out of my head and onto a page. thank you for reading this mess. hang on tight, i'm hoping this will be a long ride x


End file.
